Scion’s Sacrifice (The Guardians of Light Book 3)

by R. Michael Card

  He let out a roar of frustration, pleased to see her shrink back. Then he turned from her and began walking. He couldn’t stand to look at her, that unearthly beauty. He needed to be far from this place. Yet despite the intensity of his need to be away from here, away from her, he stopped after only a few paces.

  He was gulping air now, seething. The sun before him became flashes of her soft hair and golden eyes. She’d enchanted him. That had to be it. She’d done something when she’d brought him here, and he’d find out what, then kill her.

  He put all the threat he could into his voice as he turned back to her weaving all the dark passion and danger of who he was behind every word. “What did you do to me?”

  She flinched, but mostly looked confused. That was not the reaction he’d been expecting. Scared, defiant, those were emotions that would have made sense, but confusion?

  When she spoke, her voice was calm, even. That annoyed him even more. “All I did was try to get away from you.”

  “You did a horrible job.”

  “I’m aware of that, thank you.”

  “Where are we?”

  She looked around and seemed just as baffled as he’d been. “I don’t know.”

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He leapt and landed next to her, catching her off guard. He grabbed her head, a hand cupping each cheek.

  Whatever he’d meant to do was lost the instant his flesh touched hers. An overwhelming sensation filled him as the full force of her entire being was shunted into him. Her mind, soul, and spirit fused with his. Her feelings merged and mingled with the dark emotions in his soul. Everything she was, such beauty and purity, filled him and intermingled with his twisted malevolence.

  He couldn’t move, though his hands did release her reflexively as if touching hot coals. She staggered back with a long, “Oh,” of exhaled air. He guessed the look of utter shock and overwhelm on her face matched his. Whatever had happened to him, had happened to her.

  Yet still he couldn’t fathom the joining which had just occurred. He could feel her. He knew her on such an intimate level that he lost his own being. He was her in every way but the physical. Even that wasn’t far removed for he could feel the way the fabric of her dress moved over her skin, feel the wind in her hair.

  It was far too much to take in so quickly. He knew everything about her, memories of her parents, her feelings about him and the war, the confusion over where they were — so apparently she really didn’t know — the bright buoyancy of her spirit, always open and hopeful.

  Yet, far worse than knowing and feeling her was the incongruence of how that countered his own thoughts and feelings and spirit. There was a great internal conflict as these two forces collided and tried to be at home in one body but couldn’t come to any agreeable terms.

  He finally managed to stammer out some words. “What was that?” But even as he spoke he knew the answer. He had no idea how or why it had happened, but the result was clear enough, echoing within him. Somehow he and Cassine, he knew her name now like it was his own, had completely merged mind, soul, and spirit.

  She fell to her knees still breathing hard. “We…” She couldn’t get the words out, but he heard everything she intended to say: we are one, we merged, but how? Is this because of the teleportation?

  What teleportation? Had he said those words out loud? No, he hadn’t. And he already knew the answer. He knew her thoughts, what she’d done, how they’d come to be here. Despite his knowing she still responded to him.

  I tried to teleport myself away from you, but I’d never done it with someone holding me before. I took us both.

  He already knew all of that. He could feel her power and knew she was a multi-talent of no small ability but he still had to ask: What are you? There was far more at work here than a simple spell. Well, teleportation wasn’t a simple spell at all, but it alone only explained how they’d arrived here, it didn’t explain what had happened just a moment ago. He hadn’t done it, which meant it had to come from her. Yet he knew everything about her and knew that she’d never done or experienced anything like this before either. Which meant if it wasn’t him and wasn’t her, then…

  “It’s something about the connection between us. Two multi-talents touching…” she said having followed his train of thoughts.

  It made no sense to him, yet it also seemed the most likely explanation. He’d touched her skin to skin before now, just not since…

  “The teleportation,” she said, finishing his thoughts once again. “Somehow, using a spell which combines all the elements while we were together has joined us. It just required a physical touch to activate it?” She was uncertain of what she was saying, as was he. Yet it was currently the only explanation that made sense.

  Another thought came to him.

  “You’re a multi-talent,” he said, his thoughts already spinning ahead and she knew where they were going.

  “No!” she said vehemently.

  “You can remove these bindings!”

  “Why would I want to free you?”

  It was an excellent question. His gut reaction was ‘because I’ll kill you if you don’t’ but even as that thought flashed through his head — and hers — he knew he wouldn’t.

  “See,” she said slowly, her thoughts already known to him, far ahead of her words, “I told you there was good in you.”

  “No!” He needed to get away from her, from anyone knowing him so deeply. Only his father was allowed in, not this woman. He stalked away, first with long strides, then running, soon bounding in a long leap from this plateau to the lower peak to the south. He landed in a large clearing with evergreen trees loosely placed all around. He turned, looking back at the plateau far away and the speck of a woman.

  He could still feel her, but thankfully, distance had diminished the connection. He could still hear her thoughts, but they were quieter. Her feelings weren’t as raw and intense in his soul, her spirit not blinding him with its purity. He shuddered and fell to his knees, so tired from everything that had happened since they’d arrived here. He needed a break. He needed to think without her in his head, but that would be impossible. He’d need to be a lot farther away for that to happen and he didn’t have the strength to run at the moment. He sat back, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He needed to get her out and get back to being himself.

  Yet of all the things she’d said, there was one that stuck like a thorn in his mind and soul. He was not a good man. He’d done and seen and ordered far too many evil things to be good. How could she say he was good?

  Especially now that he knew her. She was everything that was pure and virtuous. She was like a sun within him dispelling the night of his own being, stuck in a permanent conflict of dawn or dusk, depending on how you saw it. He was black, like his father, evil through and through… and yet… he knew what she’d seen in him, those select few fibers of light in an otherwise twisted and sinister soul. Sure they were there, he could admit that, but that meant nothing against the sheer volume of hatred and vileness that was the rest of him. It was insignificant… wasn’t it? He didn’t even know where those strands came from and didn’t care. He’d banish them if he could, but they formed some deep core of who he was. Yet that didn’t mean he was a good man.

  I just said you had good in you. Not that you were a good man. Her voice echoed through his mind.

  He tried to push her out. He needed to think.

  So he stayed there, brooding, chaffing, sorting through his thoughts and feelings, and hating every minute of it. He was a man of action, not introspection. He’d never questioned himself before, so why now? Because he needed proof that he was who he thought he was. Proof enough to dissuade this woman who could see his soul. Proof enough to overcome his fledgling doubts and permanently squash the very faint light within him.

  Why not just kill her? The questioned echoed through his thoughts. She’s a threat. She knows too much.

  He could. Despite her powers, he could still rip her in
two if he wanted, but… something was stopping him. At first, he thought it was her benevolent thoughts and feelings polluting him, but after a moment, he knew that wasn’t the case. He could have killed her back at the abbey, but hadn’t. Why?

  Again, the image of that other woman flashed into his mind. Whoever she was she was behind this. He couldn’t kill Cassine because some faint memory of another woman was stopping him. But who was she? How did that brief memory have the power to stop him from killing, which came naturally to him?

  Thoughts warred within him, feelings battling alongside, twisted and confused.

  His stomach rumbled.

  He quelled the hunger with a thought. Being strong in the element of earth meant he was well connected to his body and able to go for days without eating if needed.

  If you’re hungry you should eat, she said into his mind.

  What do you care? The really sickening part was: she did care. By all that was dark and evil! They were enemies, yet she cared for him. She seemed to think of it as something called ‘common decency.’ She treated her enemies with kindness and a certain respect. She was good to people who were mean to her. She didn’t like him at all, but she’d be nice to him? What sort of person lived like that?

  Her thoughts and emotions grew stronger. Cassine was coming. He’d known for some time. She’d taken a rather long circuitous route to get to him. She’d been hunting. He looked up as she entered the clearing carrying several small dead animals.

  He knew from their connection that her father was a woodsman and a hunter. She’d helped him as a child and learned some of his craft.

  “Dinner?” She laid her catch on the ground and crouched across from him. She wasn’t happy about any of this. She felt a vile revulsion toward him and yet here she was offering him food.

  “Why?” He didn’t need to ask the rest of the questions. She knew them. Why help me? Why come back to me? Why are you here? What do you want?

  “You know why,” she said, and he did. This was what ‘good’ people did. They did for others as they hoped others would do for them. It made no sense to him, but apparently it was the only thing that made sense to her.

  She smiled. It was forced, but still pleasant looking. “I’ll go get some firewood.”

  I’ll do it. He rose in a flash, reaching out to stop her but his hand halted itself inches from her wrist. He wouldn’t touch her, skin to skin, again. He wasn’t afraid…

  Yes you are.

  Ok, maybe he was. He didn’t want to renew the connection. Even now, though she was there with him he could feel it slipping away, not as crisp or clear as it had been at first. He turned away, stalking into the woods to find dry wood. He needed to walk, get away.

  This woman was going to drive him insane, perhaps she already had. Maybe that was why he questioned everything he was.

  Chapter 3

  Cassine listened to the fire crackle and snap as fat from the spitted squirrel dripped onto the leaping flames. It was late afternoon and the sun had already disappeared behind the high peaks to the west. The air was cooling quickly. Also slipping away was the deep connection she’d shared with Davar earlier that day.

  Cassine sat and waited to eat as Davar finished sucking the meat from the bones of the first squirrel she’d cooked. He’d demanded to be fed first, stroking his ego and hiding his uncertainty. It was infuriating and yet, it was who he was. The fact that they were ‘sharing’ a meal at all was incredible… for both of them. She’d let him have his way, taking just a little joy from how much her generosity had infuriated him.

  He was an intimidating man, as large as they came. She was tall, built sturdy and strong, so there were few men who loomed over her. He was one of them. A head taller than she and built like a bear, thick through chest and shoulders with great muscular arms and long, massive legs. His face was angular with a heavy brow, thick nose, and sharp strong jawline. His eyes were dark brown, almost black to match his hair, which was a tousled mane around his face, falling to his shoulders.

  Yet despite his great size and savage look, it was his magic that intimidated her the most. With any larger than her she might still be able to overpower them with her earth magic, but with Davar…

  She shivered, remembering how easily he’d overpowered her back at the abbey, how futile her magically enhanced strength had been against him.

  She was in no way upset as the connection with him faded. It had been horrid being connected to one so dark and broken, feeling the slimy filth of his soul fouling and staining hers. She’d had to keep from being physically sick at the feel of such vile and corrupt thoughts and feelings mingling with hers.

  It had taken all her will to do… anything for a long time after they’d bonded. He was as dark and depraved a man as she’d ever met and she didn’t want any part of him anywhere near her.

  And yet she felt compelled to help him, to heal him.

  She was more than just a healer by trade but had always felt a certain drive to help those in need. He didn’t want her help, but to her all that darkness was like a wound. Only this wound was in his soul; a great gaping sore, which could be healed… given a lot of time and effort. Once she’d recovered from feeling sick, she knew she had to help him.

  You can’t fix me.

  Cassine sighed, wondering how much of what she was thinking he was hearing at the moment. She decided she didn’t care and continued with her train of thought.

  It was true he was ‘the enemy.’ Yet what she’d seen when she’d been intimately connected to him was more like a lost and troubled boy. He might be the Blacklord’s son, but she wondered idly who’d been his mother? According to his thoughts earlier, he believed he had no mother, that he was created by magic. But Cassine found that difficult to believe.

  She knew much of magic, specifically the sub-element of creation, which lay between the elements of water and earth, her two prime talents. She was quite knowledgeable about creation, conception, and birth. She’d been the best midwife of all of the Daughters of Ehlani. It was true that with strong enough magic nearly anything was possible, but she didn’t think even the Blacklord with all his powers would be able to generate that level of pure creation. Perhaps he could. She suspected a more likely explanation was that a woman had carried Davar while much dark magic had been used to conceive and develop the boy. She also suspected that the woman had probably not been allowed to live much past Davar’s birth.

  Yet his creation was not as much a concern to her as the one thought she kept circling back to: could he be healed?

  He didn’t want to be. He’d made that clear. But that hadn’t stopped her in the past. She’d seen soldiers praying for death, a release, and been able to bring them back from the brink to a full and healthy life. High Sister Olinda had once told her she was the most skilled healer of all the Daughters of Ehlani, perhaps even better than the High Sister herself. She had faith that she could heal this man’s twisted soul.

  Davar took the spitted squirrel from the fire and removed the spit. He glanced at her, then tossed her the spit. She set about skewering the last of the three she’d caught, already cleaned and waiting. She placed the spit back over the fire without a word and waited.

  He glared at her.

  Then with a sneer, he broke the cooked squirrel he was holding in half then tossed her part. She caught it.

  “Thank you,” she said simply.

  His eyes narrowed, then he looked away confused. Finally, he shook his head and began devouring his half of the carcass.

  Yes, she decided, he could be healed.

  He need not have given her any food. He was stronger than she was, and she wouldn’t have been able to take it from him by force. Had he felt something for her? Had he let some of that light seep through, then regretted it immediately?

  “I know what you’re thinking, remember,” he said, his voice the deep, gruff baritone she’d come to know. “You can’t change me.”

  Could she? Was his next immediate thought
.

  She nibbled on her food to hide her growing smile. There were doubts enough there for her to work with. She knew part of his uncertainty came from the empty space within him where the voice of the Blacklord had once been. Davar was too far away now to hear his ‘father’s’ commands. He didn’t have someone controlling him, telling him what to do, which meant he had to figure out who he was on his own. If she had any say in it, he’d start to see the light within him.

  “It’s up to you,” she said softly. “If you want those bindings off then perhaps you’ll let me try.” It was a gamble. She knew the bindings kept him from summoning his Scion-Sword. With them gone, he’d have access to a great weapon. What he’d do with that she really didn’t know, despite their connection.

  He glared at her again. “I could just race back to my armies and have them do it.”

  “You haven’t yet.”

  “I like the night. I was waiting for full dark and a good meal before starting.”

  “As you say.” She shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

  His thoughts might have been mostly hidden from her now, but his soul wasn’t. She could feel the turmoil within him at the thought of leaving her. She wasn’t quite sure why except that he seemed to have some desire, some infatuation with her. He’d thought of her as ‘angelic’ earlier. She wasn’t sure where that had come from, but she’d apparently made a deep impression on him. Whether it was that, the light of her soul mixed with his, or something else beyond either of their understandings that made him stay, it didn’t matter. As long as he stayed, she had a chance to help him.

  It was a long shot, but perhaps she could try another approach. “Don’t you want to know about your mother?”

  His head snapped up, eyes burning with suspicion and anger. “I had no mother.”

  “I can tell you for sure, one way or the other, if you’d like.”